


God of Nothing

by 06seconds_left



Category: Kingdom Hearts, Mononoke-hime | Princess Mononoke
Genre: Community: kh_drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 09:10:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/06seconds_left/pseuds/06seconds_left
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not his kingdom. It is too quiet and too empty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	God of Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: fairy tale.

Silence.

That is the first thing he notices.

\---

XI, they call him. A Nobody. They crow like gods from the top of their white mountains, staring down at him from the shadows of their dark cloaks. They give him orders as if they own the world; they demand his obedience as if they were beings of higher rank, mightier than him, more powerful than him.

_Him._

It’s almost too much to take. He moves, ready to smite the arrogant fools and cast them down into their rightful places. He reaches out instinctively, grasping through the space for that pulse of life he knows should be there—

—and finds nothing.

He stops, staring at his new form with wide eyes. His mind is reeling; he's conscious of things in a way he never knew before.

Softly, he whispers, “Who are you?”

One of them raises his hands slowly to the sky. “We are the Organisation.”

\---

Their forest is a vast expanse of strange, lifeless metal. Dark mountains stand tall everywhere he turns, blinking their multi-coloured eyes at him as he walks by. The soil is hard and unyielding under his feet; when he reaches out a hand—thin lengths of light brown indexes—the ground does not answer, keeping its steadfast silence.  The air, too, is strange. He can feel the wind blowing along the paths, brushing his skin—a delicate layer of cells attached to each other, covered by folds of black leather—but the breeze itself is empty, nothing more than a collection of half-hearted dust and particles.

Whenever he goes out for a walk, the misshapen kodama insist on trailing after him, relentlessly tracing his every step. When he turns on them, the spirits recoil, shrinking into the nearest corner available, but they refuse to leave him alone. The forest’s creatures keep their distance too; yellow orbs watching silently from the shadows, too wary to come any closer.

He tries to concentrate, searching for that presence he knows should be there, all around him.

\---

“Your kingdom doesn’t exist,” he tells them, still marveling at the sound of his new voice.

One of them laughs unpleasantly. “Neither does yours. Not anymore, anyway.”

\---

_It shouldn’t be this way,_ he thinks. The world should answer when he calls. That’s the way life works. He is the Reaper; he is the Mother. He Gives and he Takes, all at will. It is his _right_.

Yet no matter how hard he tries, no one answers. They ignore his calls, slipping easily out of his grasp. There is nothing here. No life. No death.

Nothing.

\---

The silence continues.


End file.
